


The Nights You've Been Through

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Gen, Good Severus Snape, Holiday break, Hurt Harry, Hurt/Comfort, POV Severus Snape, Pain, Severitus kinda, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus isn't a grade A dick, They come to a sort of understanding, alternative universe, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: In which Harry gets a concussion, forgets Snape is the bad guy and has to sleep it off in Snape’s quarters for a few hours.





	The Nights You've Been Through

“Potter?” He doesn’t respond and Severus moves into the path of Harry’s gaze. It doesn’t waver, not even when Severus advances toward him. “Potter?” Deep breath, then, “Harry?”

Recognition comes alight in Potter’s eyes and they flick to Severus’ black ones. “Dad?”

Not many things send Severus reeling, but the idea that Harry thinks Severus could be his father makes Severus feel like he’d expected a stair and found none when he went to step down. Harry’s brows crinkle again and then his eyes sweep across the small space, across Severus’ tall, wood bookshelves and the burgundy rug that lies under the coffee table, to the fireplace and finally, to the heavy, black door and window that looks out into the lake. He shakes his head, looking at his hands. “No, no, my father’s dead,” he mumbles to himself, and when he looks up his eyes are more clear. “Snape?”

“Professor Snape,” he snarls, mostly against the relief he feels in his chest. 

“Sorry, sir,” his gaze on his hands again. Severus sighs. “What am I doing here?”

“You fell off your broom.” Nothing flares in the boys’ eyes, not recognition, not rage, not even an inkling that Severus is lying. He sighs, letting the air fill up the space in between them. “You hit your head.”

“I don’t remember that,” he says, softly. 

“Of course you don’t remember it, you stupid, idiotic child. You never stop to think before vaulting yourself into danger. Did you never consider sleet and snow aren’t flying conditions? Of course not. If I had left you out there you would have died.”

Harry’s quiet then and Severus is panting, feeling concern and anger pulling him in opposite directions. He’d promised Lily all those years ago that he would protect her child but never did he think it would be this hard, this hands-on. Every year the Boy Who Lived becomes the Boy Destined To Die. 

“Thank you, sir, for not leaving me out there.” He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth and shifts on the couch, bringing his knees forward in front of his body. He puts his head down briefly, shuts his eyes, his breathing suddenly heavier as if it hurts to do it. 

Severus, still hovering by the couch, begins to pace. He waves Potter’s gratitude off, steps thudding harshly against the dungeon floors. “Nonsense.” 

The boy flinches at every step Severus takes and he stops, whirling, about to yell at him when he sees Potter’s hands clasping at his temples. Of course he’d be in pain. He’d thrown up the potion Severus had tried to give him. Harry’s eyes squint into the light as he watches Severus approach and the wrinkles surrounding them only smooth out once Severus has blocked the source. 

“Here, Potter, drink.” He presses a vial into Harry’s hands and watches as the boy drains it in a few gulps, wincing at the taste. His eyes are dragging but Severus can see him fighting it.  _ Stupid boy, idiotic boy, damned child. _

“Sleep, Potter. I cannot leave you to your own devices until I can ensure you will not die from that head wound.” He hands Harry the blanket, pleased when he takes it and shuffles awkwardly back down to lay on the couch. 

Severus exhales slowly, watching as Potter’s breathing softens and the lingering creases of pain smooth out on his face. Two weeks, he thinks, is far too long. 

It’s holiday break and while Severus doesn’t have to start grading end of term papers, he doesn’t want to do any work that pulls him away from the couch. Head wounds, he knows, are dangerous, even in wizards, and the height Harry fell off his broom… His stomach clenches as memories of finding Harry, unmoving, blood a halo around his mussy, black hair in the powdered snow flood his mind. He takes a deep breath and puts up his Occlumency shields, files it back, deep into his mind. 

He gets two hours of work done grading fifth-year papers before Harry groans and sits up, blearily blinking into the light. He swallows thickly and Severus shoves a cauldron under Harry’s mouth just in time for the boy to be sick in it. He awkwardly rubs a hand down Harry’s back, pleased to see Harry’s shoulders relax into the touch.  _ Stupid, idiotic, damned child.  _

He presses the inside of his wrists to his forehead. “Hurts,” he moans. Severus can’t do anything about it. He knew the concussion would worsen, knew the pain would build into something blinding. Harry had been unconscious when he’d found him, and it had taken Severus several moments to wake him.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, in that same soft tone he gives to Slytherin first years he finds curled up in the common room at 3 am, too homesick to retire to their own beds. 

Harry shakes his head, or, tries to before aborting the movement in a dizzy slur of mumbled words. He whimpers and Severus sighs, grabbing a slightly numbing balm and rubbing it across Harry’s temples. 

The tension in Harry’s body bleeds out at the contact, shoulders slumping, jaw unclenching, eyes opening. Lily’s eyes, green and vulnerable,  _ caring. _ “Why are you being nice to me?” Harry asks after a hard swallow. Severus directs his gaze away from Lily’s eyes, and down to the balm cannister. 

“It is my duty to ensure the safety of students left in my care. You are my charge this holiday break.”

Harry lets out a small laugh, winces when that spikes the pain, and studies Severus with eyes more cautious and wary than he’s ever seen. “You could have just left me in the care of your Slytherins, let me sleep this off there. Why are you keeping me in your quarters? Why do you care?”

Severus fumbles with the answer, thoroughly thrown. He’s never felt this wrong-footed in a conversation before. He settles for a half-truth. “I...knew your mother. She asked me to take care of you.”

Harry snots in disbelief and Severus feels anger flood through him. “Right, take care of me. That’s what you’ve been doing for the past three years. Tell me, does taking care of me include humiliating me in Potions? Or catching me at every wrong turn and awarding me detentions?”

He whirls around, temper flaring. But Harry is holding himself up against pain in a defensive manner Severus can’t help but admit to recognizing as too similar to himself. He’s pale, sweating, practically swooning in pain and yet he’s running his mouth. Too scared to be vulnerable, too hopeful to let himself be disappointed by another adult letting him down. The anger flares out of him quicker than it came in. “I was blinded by your father. You look like him, _ exactly  _ like him. I thought...you were him at times. Arrogant, insolent, Gryffindor golden boy.”

“I don’t know my parents, how could I be like a man I never even knew?”

“That... Potter is the question.” Severus thinks about it, about all the times he’s caught the brat being insufferably like his father. All the times Dumbledore was convinced he wasn’t. Sneaking out after curfew, speaking back to Snape in class, going after the Philosopher’s stone, opening the Chamber of Secrets with Lockhart. But, really, the boy had done it all to help people. Except for talking back to Snape (which Severus had to admit was provoked), he’d only ever bent the rules to help his friends. He’d seen it in Harry’s memories when he’d used Legilmency to determine if he should floo-call Poppy in to help with Potter’s condition. “I was wrong, to think that for so long without giving you a chance to prove me wrong.” The apology seems to startle the boy and Severus feels more unlike himself than he’s ever felt before. He pushes Harry back down into the couch, pulls the blanket up and gives him a calming draught. “You need your rest.”

For once, Harry doesn’t fight him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, 
> 
> I hope you like this fic! I'm still playing around with Good Snape and Harry and Snape friendship fics for the time being. If you enjoyed this and would like to see more please leave a like or a kudos so I can gauge interest, and also because feedback fuels me. I hope you guys have a wonderful day!
> 
> Thanks,  
> C


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